Grace
by Confiscated Retina
Summary: One shot. Satyrs and demigods shouldn't mix, but Thalia Grace has never been the sort to listen to such things. Grover/Thalia lemon. Rated M for a reason.


**This story is rated M. Read at your own risk. This is explicit and deals with adult subject matter. You are responsible for what you choose to read. Should you read this M-rated fic and feel the need to whine/flame/attempt to troll me about it, be aware that public mockery may be a consequence of that action. Private mockery definitely will be. :D**

**A/N:** I was thinking about crack pairings a month or so back and this happened. I did the right thing and wrote it as original fic, but it turns out this scene doesn't fit those characters at all, so I've dusted it off and made it fit a couple of my favorite characters from a great series of books. For the record, I love Grover x Juniper and am all about Thalia x all of the Hunters and Artemis, I just don't take any shipping that seriously (and I possibly love crack ships more). This takes place in a future in which Juniper has passed on and Thalia has been away from the Hunters of Artemis long enough to be physically in her 20s.

* * *

**Grace**

"You could be with anyone else right now."

The words slip out of his mouth as they watch the afternoon sky reflected in the still lake waters.

"I know."

She leans casually against a tree, short black hair sticking against the bark. He sits straight as a lodge pole pine, carefully focused on the trees across the water, dead pine needles tangling in his coarse leg fur.

"So what're you doing wasting your time with me again?"

A bird whistles in the trees.

"Remember when we met?" she picks up a pine cone and idly turns it in her fingers.

"Kind of hard to forget," he absently runs his fingers over one arm, tracing a battle wound that healed long ago.

"You told me the truth after you saved my life. Didn't say a word about things being all right."

He remembers that day and how it felt wrong to lie to her then, even if she had been so young. Thinking back, he realizes they've known each other for a long time. In many ways, the satyr has watched this daughter of the sky god grow up. It doesn't make things any easier now.

The pine cone sails in a clean arc over the grass and sand. It lands in the water with a cold splash, sinking for a moment only to float to the surface again.

Her lips are suddenly hot against his, startling a muffled yell out of him. She has his sparse beard pinched so tightly between thumb and fingers that his wide brown eyes water. Her smell, like the air after lightning strikes, fills his nose. When she lets him go, he scuttles back, hands and hooves fumbling to hide the part of him that has perked up unexpectedly fast.

She smirks and sits where he was, watching him with electric-blue eyes. His heart hammers in his chest and his curved horns tap against the tree that is still faintly warm where her back rested against it.

"Been holding that back since I was fifteen," she says idly.

"I'm too old for you," he rasps.

"Since when did that matter?"

The point is a valid one. He doesn't feel this is the best time to really consider why he's ignored her for so many years.

A zipper sliding free breaks the afternoon stillness. He can see flesh straining at the fabric of her white t-shirt as she opens her jacket.

"Ah," he clears his throat. "It's a bit chilly for you to be undoing your jacket, isn't it?"

"Maybe. Might need someone to help keep me warm."

His pointed ears twitch and he holds his hands and hooves closer to his body. She leaves the jacket behind and settles in front of him.

"Sorry if I startled you," her voice and face are sincere. "Call it getting even for what you saw when the Golden Fleece brought me out of that tree."

He's trying not to look at her, not to breathe in a smell he's come to love over the years.

"Look, if you really don't want this, I'll go. I'll find some of those 'others' you keep saying I should spend time with and you'll never have to see me again."

The thought of never seeing her again sends ice through his veins. He can't imagine life without her anymore.

"Don't go," he manages. "I...don't know what I'd do without you."

She inches closer. "I've had a crush on you since I was a kid, you know."

"I..." he swallows nervously. "I always kind of knew. Didn't want to think about it too hard, er..."

Her eyes are sparkling with wicked mirth.

Tree bark digs into his skin as his back presses against it. "This isn't a good idea. Really. I'm no good for you."

"How do you know?"

"Demigods and satyrs, it's just... You could do so much better!"

"Maybe the guy who almost got himself killed for me twice is my idea of the best."

Her weight is resting on hands that are between his legs, fingers almost touching his knuckles.

"What if I get...distracted?"

"I won't hold it against you. You're a satyr. I understand. We could always share your...distractions."

He swallows. "And if you die tomorrow?"

"Then I want to live today."

Their lips are close and he doesn't pull away as she leans in to meet him. Tension evaporates from his shoulders at the warm taste of her. He brings one shaking hand up to cup her jaw, caress her soft cheek and trace the scar just under her eye. When she lets him go, he takes a deep, shuddering breath.

"Gods, I wouldn't even let myself dream about that," he croaks with a grin.

"You learn a lot from Amazons," she trails a hand down his arm and casually settles one denim-clad leg over his shaggy-furred thigh.

"Er, have you ever...?" he finds himself unaccountably blushing.

"You're the only guy I was ever interested in after I was old enough to care about that."

"Maybe we should wait then..."

A soft finger slips under his cupped palm and slides over his exposed skin. A snort of laughter escapes her at the look on his face.

"You can learn a lot from Amazons," she repeats, grinning.

Before he can think of a clever response, she has his lips captured once more, fingers tangled in his hair. His hands wander carefully down her back, the press of her body against his almost overwhelming even concealed in denim and cotton. His fingers absently tug at her shirt until he can slide them under her belt and touch warm, soft skin.

She releases his mouth only to begin nibbling at his ear, fingers digging into his bare shoulders. He makes a pleased noise and tugs the front of her shirt away from her pants with one hand, the other still circling under her belt, tracing the dimple where her hip connects to her soft belly. Almost without thought, he undoes the belt and unbuttons her pants. She doesn't seem to notice until his hand cups that hot, damp place and she shivers. He grins in spite of himself, sliding his other hand under her shirt and bra to tweak one nipple.

Her hands tangle in his hair as he strokes with practiced fingers. Were it not so chilly, he might have helped her take the shirt off, but he settles for kissing her other breast through the cotton. It doesn't take long before he can slip his fingers inside her.

"Gods," she whispers into his ear. "What about you?"

"I want to do this right," he says but her hand trails down his side anyway, searing against his skin in the mountain chill.

She shudders over him as he carefully works his fingers deeper, pressing and stroking. Blood pounds in his ears as the delirious smell of her washes over him. When her hand wraps around him, hot and strong, he gasps.

"Wait, wait," he manages to say. "Not yet."

She grins wickedly and strokes him from base to tip with a shaking hand before sliding it up to his chest. He bites his lip, then bites at her through her shirt, pressing his fingers inside her until the hand on his chest clenches, digging painfully but pleasantly into his skin. Her hips twitch downward and he can feel her heart beating around his fingers.

She lunges toward him, breathing hard through her nose as she seizes his lips again. Her tongue slides into his mouth, thick and tasting like fire. His fingers are beginning to ache, but it's worth the minor discomfort to feel her moan into his mouth, body squeezing tight in waves as ecstasy takes her. Hot wetness slides over his knuckles and he burns to feel her around other, more sensitive parts of himself.

"You're better at that than I thought you'd be," she pants.

"I've had some practice," he grins and slides his fingers free, bringing them to his mouth for a small taste. "We don't have to do anything else from here. I can take care of myself if you'd rather..."

She has him in her hand again before he can finish, holding him steady while her other hand balances her against the tree. Tight, wet heat envelopes him and the hand still cupping one breast under her shirt squeezes reflexively.

"Oh, gods," he chokes out, eyes falling shut and head lolling back against the tree.

Teeth bite at his exposed neck, her tongue sliding over his Adam's apple. The hand that was so recently occupied, wet fingers cooling in the chill air, slides back under her jeans to cup one buttock. Carefully, she begins to rock her hips, taking him deeper.

It's all he can do to keep from crying out as she picks up speed. His breath rasps in his throat as their bodies join, each forward motion of her hips bringing them a little closer. He begins to whisper softly as the hot friction between them channels the blood away from his head.

"Oh gods, oh gods," he murmurs until she bites his lower lip.

His fingers dig convulsively at her flesh as he feels her heart throbbing around him, a heavy counterpoint to the blood pulsing through his veins. He squeezes his eyes shut, concentrating, holding himself steady, waiting. Her delicate slyness has been replaced with a needy ferocity and sweat is beginning to bead on her skin. He squeezes her breast with one hand and bites at her neck to distract himself.

At last, with an almost predatory snarl, she bucks against him. Their hips meet for a moment before she lifts herself and repeats the motion. He doubts his ability to hold back but she shudders around him, breathing hard into his mouth. Her body grips his in an undulating wave that draws a cry from his throat as easily as it draws everything out of him. His hips buck and the world is nothing but rapturous as he pours himself into her.

Panting, he regains his senses and feels the beautiful aftershocks of her body shivering around his. They stay still for a few moments, breathing heavily against one another. Idly, he slides his thumb over her breast, the fingers on his other hand tracing the soft curve under her jeans. He begins to grow flaccid inside her, but neither of them seems inclined to motion save for her lips meeting his in a gentle, contented kiss.

"That's why I hang out with you," she says after a time.

"So you just wanted me for my body all along?" he says with a sleepy grin.

She punches him in the shoulder hard enough to sting, grinning. "You figured me out. The self-deprecating loser between those sexy horns is okay, too." The kiss she places on his forehead is tender and his heart flutters, a somewhat inexplicable blush coloring his cheeks.

"This is going to be hard to get used to," he confesses.

"You'll figure it out. You were always pretty resourceful."

In spite of the worries tugging at his mind, he disentangles his arms from her clothing so he can wrap her in a tight embrace. If she has this much faith in him, he can believe she's right.


End file.
